


simple things

by novoaa1



Category: DCU
Genre: Blood, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Gotham City - Freeform, Gotham City Sirens, Harleen Quinzel Backstory, Harleen Quinzel Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Abuse, POV Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley Loves Harleen Quinzel, Past Joker/Harleen Quinzel, Past Sexual Abuse, Sad Harleen Quinzel, im having a bREAKDOWnsdlfkjsdlkjslkfd, its minor doe, kind of a character study!!, look - Freeform, theyre so Soft, we havent edited this ok, you already kno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 15:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20932400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novoaa1/pseuds/novoaa1
Summary: Everyone says she’s crazy, an' maybe they’re right about that, but she ain't confused, an' she thinks that that oughtta count for something.(Back when she wore them fancy glasses and pencil skirts and that goofy title a' ‘Doctor,’ she probably believed that that was the most dangerous version a' crazy—when ya weren’t confused; when ya didn’t doubt yourself, ‘cus ya delusion was so freakin’ pervasive you waswaypast the point of ever believin’ anythin’ different.She thinks that maybe Doctah HQ mighta been ont’a somethin’ there.)Or: Harley's life has always been simple... well, maybe not nearly as simple as she thought.





	simple things

**Author's Note:**

> itS a mental breakdown!!1! *off-key kazoo plays to the tune of the john cena theme song*
> 
> ahem
> 
> anywho

For Harley, life's always been simple—well, at least, it’s been simple since the day she became the infamous Harley Quinn, pale-skinned maniacal clown an' mayhem-raiser extraordinaire traipsin' the gloomy streets a' Gotham with her trusty bat in one fist an' Mistah J’s hand in the other. 

Gun? _Bang_—you're dead. 

Blood (—even your own)? Laugh. It's _funny_. 

Guys (—'specially Mistah J)? Mean. Good at makin' ya feel worthless. Get ta ya knees an' worship him anyway. 

Everyone says she’s crazy, an' maybe they’re right about that, but she ain't confused, an' she thinks that that oughtta count for something.

(Back when she wore them fancy glasses and pencil skirts and that goofy title a' ‘Doctor,’ she probably believed that that was the most dangerous version a' crazy—when ya weren’t confused; when ya didn’t doubt yourself, ‘cus ya delusion was so freakin’ pervasive you was _way_ past the point of ever believin’ anythin’ different. 

She thinks that maybe Doctah HQ mighta been ont’a somethin’ there.)

Whateva’. 

Maybe it don’t count for nearly as much as she’d like to think.

That's okay, too—she ain’t alone no more, ‘cause she’s got Kitty an’ Red an’ a two bedroom apartment on tha' thirteenth floor ‘a tha Gotham Metropolitan ‘Espinado’ (or however ya say it), an’ that's a whole lot more than nothin’.

(Harley knows firsthand what havin’ nothin’ feels like.)

Some days, it feels almost…. _better_: waterin’ tha plants with Red, fightin’ with Kitty ‘bout who left the fresh bloodstains on tha carpet, feedin’ her feline lovelies raw slabs a' meat in the mornin’ even after Red swore up an’ down she’d leave for good if Harley kept on doin’ that.

(The two a’ them compromise, now: leafy greens durin’ the day, raw meat for breakfast an’ dinner.

It’s all kinda a new concept to Harley—compromise, that is. 

Mistah J never did ‘compromise.’

Harley thinks that maybe if he did, things wouldn’t'a got so screwed up like they are now.

Sometimes, when it gets real dark an’ quiet at night an’ no one else is around, she thinks that maybe she’s betta’ off without him.

She'll trace tha scars below her stomach an’ the ink all over her ghosty-white skin an’ wonder what Mistah J's doin’ out there while she sits alone ’n tha dark thinkin’ that maybe it was a mistake to finally pick up an’ leave… even if there’s a little part’a her that kinda believes it when Red tells’er that it was brave an’ good an’ _right_ of her to do that.)

Some days, she doesn’t miss Mistah J so bad—some days, she imagines a pretty house filled with those green plants Pam-a-Lam loves so damn much, an’ there’s a familiar redhead twirling her in circles ’n tha kitchen instead’uv a green-haired goblin she can’t remember for the _life_ a’ her why she still adores…. an’, she feels herself smile so wide it actually starts to hurt after a while.

(It’s been a long while since she did that.)

So maybe life wasn’t so simple before—hurtin’ people an' fuckin’ whoever Mistah J said she had ta fuck an’ worryin’ all tha time that no matt’a how much she did and how much she sacrificed for him, it might not be enough. _She_ might not be enough. 

But now… now, things feel diff'rent. _She_ feels diff'rent, an’ it’s got everything to do with Red an' her pretty smile an' the way she makes Harley’s heart beat faster than it ever did for Mistah J.

Harley likes it, she thinks. It’s… _simple_.

— —

**Author's Note:**

> thots? (my [tumblr](https://psyches.co.vu/))


End file.
